Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Tuesday, January 21, 2014


by Bradford Middleton

The flecks on the horizon is where I want to be
Out of this town that destroys my kind
No sustainable form of electronic device to keep me occupied
Then what is there to do?  Read a book, maybe even write a book
Or even worse the thought of work
That place that sends me to the brink
So no all I do is drink, drink and smoke
This existence is killing me slowly

I got to make the great escape
And I ain’t talking about some shitty music gig
I’m talking out of this town
Never to return as I move on to other things
The idea of London terrifies but thrills me
A lot of great friends to be seen again
Who’ve missed me I know cos they’ve told me so
It does sound tempting I must confess

But wait, it’s not the London of old, the London I knew
It’s been borisfied to the point of death and the last time I was there
In the heart of Soho I sat down and wept at what it had become
A building site of biblical proportions with no sense of character
Just another faceless assortment of streets through which
I walked and wondered what had become of the London of old
The place that used to thrill and excite
It had largely gone to be replaced by some huge train link

Brighton is getting madder by the day
I see it everywhere I go people going out of their minds
Occasionally the fever will grip me too
I’ll be sat in the room smoking a joint when the fear will come
And all I can do to get through it is shut my eyes and let it all flood out
These words came out of one of those experiences
Flooding out on to the page at the rate at which my brain dictates
Thank god for my madness it’s the only thing keeping me sane

So the decision is the madness of this town or the return to the old
I don’t know which way to go

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